


If You'd Be My One True

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd tease, he'd get flustered, she'd laugh and then he'd tell her to stop... He liked that it made her smile. He also liked the way her eyes lingered, giving the words weight despite their playful tone. He liked that he liked it. Written for thecaryldaily's Valentine Naughty/Nice fic challenge on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You'd Be My One True

If You'd be My One True….

_"But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed." ― Federico García Lorca_

"It's kinda romantic," her voice was syrupy sweet with just a touch of bite. She knew what she was doing and was enjoying every bit of it. "Wanna screw around?"

He snorted but chanced a sideways look at her, trying to hide his flicker of interest behind red-cheeked embarrassment. His sign of relief was lost in her pleased chuckle. He echoed her, more because of the reprieve he'd been granted than out of shared amusement. She never failed to get to him and even though he longed to call her bluff just to see how she'd react, they held to their respective places almost by rote. She'd tease, he'd get flustered, she'd laugh and then he'd tell her to stop. It went that way throughout the winter. He liked that it made her smile. He also liked the way her eyes lingered, giving the words weight despite their playful tone. He liked that he liked it.

"I'll go down first," he said gruffly and turned to slide off the edge of the bus. He heard her snort softly under her breath and tensed. Dammit. He'd asked for it this time and there was no way in hell she was gonna pass up an opportunity like that.

"Even better," her smirk was clear in the tone of her voice. It ran over him like a fingertip, flooding his face with color even as something warm and fragile and strange welled up inside him.

"Stop," he grumbled as his feet found the ground and then he turned to offer her a hand. She clambered down gracefully and gave him a smile before heading toward the distant campfire.  _Don't stop._ A tiny voice spoke somewhere inside him. He pushed it aside as he trailed after her.

It was the little things that got to her the most. She tried to dismiss it at first, telling herself that he was a handsome man and she was a living, breathing woman. It was only natural. They were surrounded by death and hope was becoming a rare commodity. You needed to grab hold whenever and wherever you found it. She tended to fall back on teasing and innuendo when it got too hard to hide what she was thinking. Better to divert his attention than to have him look too closely. He was too observant for his own good and for her piece of mind.

If she didn't know better, she'd think he did it on purpose just to see her squirm. If so, she was bound and determined that it would be a Pyrrhic victory. No way would he leave the battlefield unscathed. Not if she had anything to say about it. The one and only sticking point was that she had no idea what his motives were. He was a sphinx when he wanted to be, giving nothing away. It maddened her even as it drew her in. Was he really that oblivious or was he a master of the game they were playing…leading her deeper in until there was nothing to do but let the cards fall where they may?

Tonight was no exception. It was long after dinner and most of the group was already bedded down for the night. She could see Rick's dim outline as he walked the fence. He was exhausted but the stubborn man refused to let anyone spell him off. He insisted that they get as much rest as could be had. Clearing the prison wasn't going to be easy. And speaking of stubborn men.

Daryl sat close to the fire, going over his weapons in lieu of sleep. Carol tucked her arms beneath her head as she surreptitiously watched him from beneath lowered lids. He didn't let on, completely absorbed in his task to the exclusion of everything else. She knew that appearances, especially where he was concerned, could be deceiving. Very little got by him. If he didn't see it, that's because he'd decided that it wasn't worth worrying about.

His hands, calloused and rough, moved deftly over the crossbow. She noticed them, as she'd noticed them before, fine boned and long fingered. They were an artist's hands, exquisitely balanced and every movement taut and controlled. They were talented, capable, and strong. They had known hard work but still retained a certain delicacy.

Her breath came short as she watched them slide along the curved limb searching for signs of wear or hidden damage. He followed the rigid length of the string, muscles bunched and flexed as he pulled it back and locked it in place before sliding a bolt home. She froze as he flicked a glance in her direction, hurriedly closing her eyes and feigning the deep, relaxed rhythm of sleep. Her pulse pounded out the seconds in her ears as she lay there wrapped in her blankets and darkness hoping that he hadn't noticed her attentions. The rasping whisper of a blade being dragged across a whetstone let her know she was safe for now. Castigating herself for her foolishness, she pried an eye open and looked his way. Looked and promptly forgot to tell herself that she wasn't supposed to be looking.

He was beautiful by firelight, the orange-gold flames gilding him in wavering radiance. The blaze teased out a hint of red in his hair, while the shifting shadows highlighted the chiseled bones of his face. He wasn't a big man, tending more to lean lines and a predator's grace. He was possessed of a wiry strength gained through long hours and hard work. She couldn't help herself. God help her but she wanted him. She wanted those hands on her. She wanted him to examine her with the same deliberate thoroughness that he gave to everything else. She wanted to open her eyes and look into his as he moved above her, in her, let her hands explore him in turn. Every stolen look fed her hunger, teased her growing awareness, and made her want. And it felt good. Better than good. It felt like life.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He couldn't stop shaking. The knowledge that they were together and that this was finally becoming real was overwhelming. All the dancing around one another, the sideways glances, the feather light touches had led to this. He wasn't a man that believed in fate or the idea of soul mates. He knew a bit about stories and legends but not this damned romance novel shit. He was going on instinct, hoping and praying that he was doing it right.

She was all slim lines and slender curves. Her eyes were a melding of a hot summer sky and lightning laced clouds. She didn't have Beth's peaches and cream beauty or Maggie's brazen flare. Hers was a more quiet fire. It burned low and steady, a reminder of hearth and home. All those things he'd never had but longed for, he found in her.

Her head tilted into his palm as his mouth traced a line from her ear to the vale at the base of her throat. He lingered there, savoring the velvet texture of her skin redolent with the scent of lilacs and sweat. Muttered prayers and sighs escaped her.  _God. Please. More._ He felt her fingers weave through the tangled strands of hair at the back of his neck. She tugged lightly to first get his attention and then to lift his mouth to hers.

The kiss wasn't one of those….clashing teeth and dueling tongues. It was furtive, shy, the softest of whispers. Their breath mixed and mingled as they drew back, trading glances as they took stock of where they were and what they were about to do. A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth as he leaned in, touching his forehead to hers. "You sure?" he asked hesitantly. "Ain't no going back after this."

Carol's smile broadened to the mischievous grin he'd come to know and eventually love. "Who says I want to go back?" She quipped teasingly. "I've finally got you right where I want you." Her legs encircled his hips, pulled him closer. She laughed softly as his disgruntled expression. "Not going to tell me to stop this time," she mused to herself. When he didn't immediately answer, she looked up and gasped as his mouth settled firmly on hers.

He was lost. She responded to his slightest touch without the slightest inhibition. Her arms lifted as he pulled her tank top up and over her head, dropping it to the floor at their feet. Her bra followed after leaving her bare before his questing lips and wandering hands. He left no part of her untouched. Her pajama bottoms and white cotton panties were kicked aside, his fingers finding her warm and wet and trembling.

"Please," she whimpered. "Oh God, please." She shifted restlessly beneath him. "I want this…want you. Please, Daryl."

They came together like two halves of a whole, her enfolding him as he surrounded her. His pace was languid and slow. His lips found hers again, almost reverent as he licked his way into her mouth. She moaned as she granted him access, returned his caress as her hips lifted to meet his. They rocked together, breath coming short as he curved a hand under her knee, lifted it up, and going deeper, rougher. "God," he rasped. "God, please."

Her fingers tightened in his hair as he settled into the curve of her neck, no sound except the gasp and pant of their breathing in counterpoint to the soft slap of skin on skin. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Then it was her voice rising to the heavens insistent on release. Beseeching him, ordering and begging by turns. He savored the remnants of his control before she slid over the edge and dragged him along with her.

Their breath and pulse slowed and steadied as he lifted his head from where it rested on her breast to kiss her. He pushed into her once more and then pulled out, leaving her with a sudden sense of emptiness. Her arms tightened involuntarily to bring him back, taking comfort in the way he curved around her and held her close.

"I love you," she whispered.

He gifted her with a sideways smirk, rough fingers tracing the lines of her face. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as the words caught in his throat. He stammered, fighting with all he had to just fucking say it already. All he managed in the end was, "Carol."

As it turned out….that was all she needed to hear.


End file.
